Setting fire to our insides for fun
by Potatogirrrl
Summary: "Mr. Giacometti?" "Christophe?" His coach's voice made him snap out of it so he furrowed his brows, excusing himself and continuing the interview. It wasn't the first time Viktor Nikiforov captured his attention by simply being. - The history behind Christophe Giacometti and Viktor's Nikiforov friendship -
1. one

The medal was weighting almost too much but the soreness that started to form made him even more stubborn to take it down – it was his win, even if it was only silver. Everyone was foreseeing him a grand future and he wanted to believe them, even if he knew it wasn't going to be easy to change his parents' minds and to continue on this path. He offered his best smile as soon as the cameras began to click and Josef's hand tightened on his shoulders, encouraging him to answer the questions politely.

"No one saw you coming so strongly, Mr. Giacometti!" An interviewer exclaimed and he grinned, the happiness not reaching his eyes. He hated this kind of remarks.

"I'm confident I'll do even better next year." Josef nodded proudly and another man made his way in front of them.

"What is your relationship with Viktor Nikiforov?"

"He's a great opponent." He has dreamed an entire year to reach this moment – to call Viktor an "opponent".

The first time they met was when Christophe was 15. He didn't qualify in the big league so he had to stuck with the younger skaters and he won gold in every competition he took part of – one of the reasons why the silver-haired skater spotted him. He was a fan of the older, following him around and cheering when his schedule allowed him to so when Viktor offered him a rose after winning a competition and told him he'll be waiting for the moment when they could skate on the same ice, Christophe almost couldn't believe his ears. Josef didn't miss the gleam that didn't disappear from his student's eyes for days but didn't dare to say anything because he didn't want to break the spell. The Swiss trained even harder afterwards, wanting by any means to make those words come true and there he was – posing proudly with his first silver medal won at the GPF.

He didn't have the time to make friends, in fact he didn't talk to anyone else because he was too nervous about his representation but now he was looking forward to the banquet, knowing important people would attend. He was talking about his usual training hours when the corner of his eyes caught a silvery ghost and he subtly turned his head to look at Viktor who was waving around the best he could while holding all the flowers and stuffed toys he was offered. Yakov was yelling at him in Russian but the teen didn't seem to listen – or if he did, he sure chose to ignore him. He was looking like he was walking on clouds and who wouldn't have been in his place? Eighteen and on top of the world.

"Mr. Giacometti?"

"Christophe?" His coach's voice made him snap out of it so he furrowed his brows, excusing himself and continuing the interview.

It wasn't the first time Viktor Nikiforov captured his attention by simply being.

* * *

He liked what he was seeing – he was wearing a dark red tuxedo that was embracing his body nicely and making his blond hair stand out. There was just one more thing he needed to do so he reached for the contacts and slowly replaced his round glasses with them, blinking a few times so his greens would adjust to the addition. In half an hour Josef was going to knock on his door so they could head to the banquet together. He was a bit nervous, not that he would have admitted.

He checked his phone – no missed call which was no surprise because he could still recall the huge fight he had with his parents before leaving. They insisted that he was missing his chance to become a decent human being because he was spending too much time skating instead of studying. What they couldn't comprehend was that he didn't want to go to college and have a boring job, skating was the only thing he cared for. He closed his eyes and pinched the base of his nose, trying to chase those memories and his inner turmoil away – he was going to have a good time tonight, maybe even drink a bit. Loud knocks startled him but he hurried to answer and soon he was heading to the lobby of the fancy hotel they were staying in, Josef offering him all kind of advice.

It was a lot boring that he imagined it would be – most of the other skaters were older than him and they were talking "adult" things that were impossibly boring. He was sipping on some champagne he managed to snatch from a busy table when he saw a foreign hand reaching for a tall glass while its owner leaned against him. He decided it was a perfect occasion to start a conversation so he turned around but his mouth turned dry as soon as he saw the intruder's face. That was not a stranger, that was Viktor Nikiforov that was smiling widely, his silver hair cascading around the pale skin of his face.

"Christophe!" He blinked, feeling his cheeks heating.

"Hi, Viktor." Blue eyes studied his face and then his body, a few compliments leaving the older boy's mouth. He declared himself a fan of the Swiss's taste in fashion and the latter wondered if it was true or if the gold medallist was just trying to be nice.

"They're such a bore. Skating is fun, talking about skating isn't." Chris chuckled at the comment and straightened his back when Viktor downed the glass he's been holding. He took another one. "Will you leave town soon?"

"My flight is at 9 PM tomorrow."

"We should have breakfast together – maybe go sightseeing." The tone of his voice was dreamy and the blond wondered if he really meant that. He accepted either way, his voice betraying his nervousness when they exchanged room numbers and then the winner was gone, kidnapped by his coach who pulled him away from the temptation that was alcohol.

Christophe was bored so it was a quarter past ten when he said his goodbyes and headed to his bedroom. His muscles were sore so he took a hot shower and lied in bed, forgetting the idea of dressing sleepwear – boxers were going to do. He had strange dreams that night, melted silver running through his veins as he was trying to run after someone who was out of reach.

Small knocks. He got up and looked at the electronic clock from the nightstand that was announcing 7:30 AM. Annoyance began to roar its ugly head but he headed for the door anyway, running his hands through his messy curls so he would look presentable. As soon as he unlocked the door it was pushed opened and inside sneaked Viktor who was shamelessly staring at his almost entirely naked body.

"My, my –" His voice was velvety and as much as Christophe would have wanted to hear more, he reached for a robe instead, covering his nudity much to the other's disappointment. "I thought we were going to have breakfast together."

"My alarm didn't work." That was a blatant lie, there has been no alarm all along.

"That's alright, I'll wait." Viktor sat on one armchair and scrutinized the room with his eyes, smiling when he saw the many bouquets of flowers that were placed in one corner. They were beautiful, warm colours that were fitting Christophe's manner of skating perfectly. The younger boy looked through his luggage for clean clothes and hurried to the bathroom, tension surrounding him like a cloud.

"Why do you want to have breakfast with me?" He asked loud enough for the other to hear while his fingers were buttoning up the shirt he chose.

"Why not?" Chris chuckled. He stepped outside the bathroom and was surprised to see how empty icy blues were as they fixed his face. "Do you dislike me?" Normally he would have joked about how no one could dislike the great Viktor Nikiforov but the other seemed genuinely concerned so he shook his head.

"Of course not."

"Good." What was that supposed to mean?

He expected Viktor to demand a fancy breakfast in an expensive restaurant but that wasn't the case – the boy suggested a vintage-looking bistro where they ate the most delicious chocolate chip cupcakes. It was the only time of the year where they could indulge themselves like that so they didn't hesitate to pick the sweetest things from the menu, unwinding with each sip of cafe latte. If Chris messaged Josef about his plans, Yakov had no idea and was going to lose his mind when he was going to find Viktor's room empty. The Russian knew all about it because it was not the first time he did that but he also knew that the old man would forgive him because he's been raising him ever since he was a child and he was more of a father figure than he wanted to admit. They got to know each other easily, words coming out of their mouths naturally, chuckles and giggles not failing to appear. Sometimes, Christophe would find himself staring a bit too long at the gold medallist's face, almost startled by the flawless features and the innocent air.

"You have beautiful eyes, Chris." He liked the way his name rolled off the silver-haired boy's tongue. "I'd kill for your eyelashes."

"Thank you." He wanted to reciprocate but he was afraid he wasn't going to be able to shut up once he would start talking about all the things he liked about Viktor.

Kuala Lumpur was a very lively city so they enjoyed themselves while discovering it. Keeping a low profile was not an easy thing to do when you were constantly laughing your head off so many fans stopped to take pictures with them. Christophe notices the difference between how Viktor was regarding women and men; at first, he believed it was his infatuated mind which was playing tricks but the doubts vanished when the taller began to appreciate the beautiful face of a young man that just offered them some indications. He kept his mouth shut, knowing it wasn't his place to talk about that.

They arrived back at the hotel a lot later than they planned to and Viktor walked Chris back to his room, apologising about the delay, thanking him for the fun times. The blond was ready to head inside when a hand grabbed his and he felt a shiver crawling down his spine. He turned around.

"Give me your phone number." The sixteen years old boy's lips began moving on their own accord, offering digits the other typed inside his phone, long fingers dancing gracefully. "I'll message you so you can save mine." The blond nodded. "I'll see you next year?"

"Of course, I'll be the one with the gold medal." Viktor grinned amused.

"We'll see." The Russian's fingertips were itching with the need to touch but instead he leaned so his lips would press gently across a soft cheek. He saw how the younger held his breath involuntary but decided not to tease, instead he pulled away, smiling content. "Have a safe flight, Chris!"

"Thank you!"

There has been no goodbye but the blond took the time to watch the slender figure go, his heart threatening to break out of his ribcage. He didn't know where all this was going but of one thing he was sure – he was feeling as light as a feather and that was only Viktor Nikiforov's fault.

* * *

Viktor really did message him – a simple "hi" and a smiley face; that was the first of many texts that continued to be sent over the next months. Neither of them had any really close friend so they bonded, spending hours on the phone when the time allowed them, confessing to each other their darkest thoughts and secrets. That year, Christophe accepted he was gay. It wasn't that he tried to deny it, he simply didn't take the time to think about it. He didn't think it was necessary for him to come out to his parents because they weren't going to take him seriously but he wanted to tell Viktor.

It was almost the middle of the night in St. Petersburg when they were on the phone, small talking and laughing while the silver haired boy was painting his fingernails black. Nail polish was his and Georgi's new obsession and something told Chris that it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"Viktor..."

"Hm?" The male was obviously distracted but he decided to continue anyway.

"I think I'm gay." It was less ceremoniously than he imagined, he simply blurted the fact and he was waiting for the other to end the call but instead a low hum could be heard.

"Now I'll have a rival on the dating ring too." The grin was obvious, Chris could hear it from thousands of kilometres away and he chuckled at that, the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders.

The same year he had his first relationship – it wasn't because he fell head over heels for the boy but because he was asked out and he had no idea how to refuse. He was still confused about how Luc found out about his sexual orientation but he didn't complain because now his raging hormones had a person to focus on. They had sex – 10 hurried minutes that took place in the other's bedroom while his parents were out of town. If that was all a relationship could offer, Christophe decided there was no purpose in having one so when Luc began to whine about how he spent too much skating, he decided to break things off.

"Did you cry?" Viktor asked worried.

"No."

He was the one who decided it should end – it would have been silly for him to cry. All he could think about was the next Grand Prix Final that was going to take place in a few weeks. He couldn't wait for the adrenaline, he couldn't wait to spend time with Viktor.

Their second meeting has been very different from the first one – this time, the Russian hugged him so tightly that he couldn't breathe for a few seconds and he buried his face into the other's shoulder, enjoying the sweet smell of his hair. They did their best and by the end of the night they were sneaking out from the banquet – two bottles of champagne mysteriously disappearing from the bar. They headed for Viktor's bedroom and Chris jumped on the bed as soon as he had the chance, closing his eyes as he waited for the other to open a bottle and pour the bubbly liquid in glasses.

"It's been a while since I had someone as attractive as you on my bed." Christophe chuckled and got up, ready to toast for their wins.

They both sat on the bed, bringing the bottle closer and soon they were dizzy, unable to stop the laughter that came out whenever they were talking about their opponents. They were taking everything so seriously that they always looked constipated and there was a slight possibility that their heads were going to explode. They finished the first bottle when Viktor came closer, moving his body so he was facing Chris who was resting his back against the headboard.

"So you're seriously not bothered by the break up?" Christophe chuckled at the presumption, shaking his head. "Brrr, such a cold heart."

"You think so?"

"No, my first relationship has been terrible. The sex was awful too ~." The blond wrinkled his nose at the memories and Viktor giggled. "But I wanted to spoil you." The silver haired boy whined, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He got up and moved even closer. "Tell me, Chris." He licked his lips. "Do you wish for anything?" His accent was thicker but the words ringed clearly inside the blond's mind, making his throat go dry.

They were both drunk and not holding back their desires so the Swiss decided to be honest.

"A kiss."

Viktor's expression was sensual as he crawled closer, pale hair contrasting wet rosy lips. Christophe's heartbeat increased when their noses touched and he gulped, getting ready to experiment what he's been fantasising about during sleepless nights. Their mouths melted together slowly, softness and honey, but the kiss gradually turned rougher until the older began to tease the other, making him open his mouth willingly and letting his tongue trespass. Hot muscles danced together, mixing their flavours as Viktor's hands pulled the Swiss closer. Their champagne spilled all over the bed but they didn't seem to care because one kiss turned into a make-out session and all that could be heard were moans and whimpers.

When the older boy began to leave hickeys on his neck, realisation hit Chris who closed his eyes, trying to chase away the erection that threatened to appear. He subtly crossed his legs but immediately felt fingers brushing the little tent that formed in front of his pants, making him moan loader.

"Let me take care of you." Yes – he wanted to be taken cared of so he nodded, capturing Viktor's swollen lips with his once again.

It was completely different than anything he ever experienced before so he let the waves of pleasure wash over him. The Russian lead the way and he swore he would never forget his friend's desperate moans as he was thrusting inside of him, silver spilled all over the pillows. Viktor was needy, nothing like the character he was displaying on ice and he became possessive while thinking that he was one of the few who saw that part of him. The thought made him hasten the pace, making sure he took in all the beauty of his partner who soon released all over his abdomen.

"Inside, Chris, need you inside." That made him lose it and soon he was spent, falling on top of the taller boy who was trying to regain his breath. His fingers began to run gently through blonde curls and the Swiss looked up to see the distant smile that was playing on his lips. "Did I fulfil your wish?"

"And more." He admitted and kissed one outstanding collarbone.

They slept in the same bed that night and the next day they didn't talk about it, they simply went on like nothing happened. Christophe wondered if Viktor regretted it but the worry vanished once they parted with a wet and almost obscene kiss.

"I'll see you soon, Chris." He smiled.

The Swiss was walking on cloud nine – he felt like all the worries in the world have disappeared. He went back to training almost immediately and made sure to work hard so he could be on the GPF skating ring the following year. It's been all rainbows and sugar until one Thursday night. He just got back home when his phone buzzed and he smiled, already knowing who the sender was. His stomach dropped when he read the words:

 **From:** _Vitya_

 _Got myself a new man._

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading ~ I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and that you're doing well! Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated! Take care of yourself x_


	2. two

Viktor didn't like the idea of self-pity. He admitted to being lonely before, the lack of friends and busy schedule didn't help, but he knew he had something more to offer to the world than that missing part of him. Ever since his mother got rid of him he tried to excel in everything and to show that he wasn't just another social case, a poor orphan. Life was not that easy, people were not going to always coo him and accept his faults just because he had a poor start in life, he was aware of that and that was why he tried to stay up for himself.

By the age 18, Viktor had a total of 2 friends – Georgi Popovich and his best friend, Christophe Giacometti. They both knew of his sexual orientation and neither of them abandoned him because of that, in fact, Christophe seemed more than understanding, even thrilled by the realisation. It has always been hard for him to keep secrets, he was the type of man to wear his heart on a sleeve so he told Yakov before others could, making the man beg him to be careful because Russia was the country they were living in. Russia – cold Russia, where people were targeting gay people every day, beating them, spitting on them, killing them. It was also a matter of publicity – he would have lost tons of sponsors if he would have outed himself so he chose to shut up and pretend he simply wasn't interested in "trivial things" such as love and relationships.

Everyone believed he was a natural, that he was a prodigy child who one day just managed to jump a triple axel but that wasn't the case; he was always the last to leave the rink, even if his body was sore and his knees were trembling. The ring belonged to the Russian team until 8 PM when the sports teams were coming to train. It was either the hockey team or the curling team, either way they were all solid, muscular men who were yelling from the top of their lungs as soon as they were entering the place. Viktor didn't have a type but he had to admit that there were some pretty faces in those bunches. The curling team had trainings on Wednesdays and Fridays and during those days, the Russian spotted one guy always watching him while skating. He would sneak inside while the other members of the team were still changing into the equipment and lean against the metallic fence, silently admiring the sensual moves that he was trying to integrate in his future routine. There was no intimidation so he didn't pay too much attention to the curious blues until one night when the boy stopped him, asking him if he could spare a moment.

His name was Andrei and he wanted to take Viktor out on a date. He was tall and pretty muscular but his soft blues made the silver-haired boy think of a child so he accepted, keeping his head high as if his heart wasn't threatening to jump out of his chest. Their first dates have been beautiful – they kissed right away, when Andrei drove Viktor back home and he seemed to understand what a sportive man's life demanded because he never complained about the busy schedules. The gold medallist always felt a little too much so it was no wonder it's been only a matter of days until he fell head over heels for Andrei. He was beautiful and kind and...

They were supposed to meet on Friday at 10 PM for some drinks but Viktor had no idea when the time flew. He dressed himself prettily, made sure his nails were on point, his hair in a messy bun. He knew he was good looking and he acted like it. It was 10:20 when he arrived in front of the skating ring (that was their usual meeting point) and he didn't notice the grim expression on his lover's face. He smiled widely but a slap took him by surprise, making him almost lose his balance.

"I waited for almost half a fucking hour." As little as Viktor's mom cared for him, she never once hit him so he had no idea how to behave. "Make sure it won't happen again."

"It won't." He answered hurriedly, the sting burning even more because of the cold air hitting his skin.

"I love you, Viktor."

It was the first time someone he dated said that to him so his heart began to flutter rapidly, the pain long forgotten. Andrei loved him – Andrei who had tens of friends to go out with, who was the popular guy in the team, who received love confessions after every game.

"I love you too."

When Viktor walked back home that night he felt like crying. He didn't know exactly why but what he knew is that he couldn't share what he was feeling with anyone because they might think something was wrong with him. Yakov was still up, watching TV when he closed the door behind him so he faked the brightest smile, knowing it was futile and that his coach was going to see right through it.

"Vitya? You came back sooner than I expected." That was his way of asking how his date went.

"It's been a long day, I'm a bit tired." The grumpy old man scanned him from head to toe before exhaling loudly and nodding once, his eyes sliding back to the thick screen of their TV.

"Good night!"

"Night, Yakov!" He hurried to the bedroom where he locked himself in, looking at his phone that was still buzzing with messages from Christophe. He missed his friend, he planned on visiting him this year but he didn't know exactly when he could afford such luxury. He answered the texts, informing him about the colourful drinks he ordered. "I need to treat you to some cocktails sometimes." "I can't wait to see you." "I miss you." Chris was a lovely human being but he was thousands of kilometres away and no matter how many times a day they would message and call each other, at the end of the day he was still lying alone in his bed.

* * *

Andrei was very rough when they had sex. He liked to bite (to mark him so everyone would understand he was taken), to slap and to leave him sore and a part of Viktor really liked that because the way he was manhandled took all the weight off his shoulders. He liked to be taken care of, he liked to be told what to do because there were so many aspects of his life that was stressing him. Sometimes, he wondered if they didn't push it too much, if the violent pain of his back and hips was exaggerated but he always chased those thoughts away because Andrei loved him, he always reminded him that.

His bruises were mostly because of the sex but there were exceptions. Like that one time when Viktor went out with the curling team and made the others laugh. Andrei took him to the bathroom and grabbed a fistful of his hair, calling him a whore for trying to impress other men while his was still around.

"I was –" He was choking on sobs. "I was tr-trying to be nice." That's when Andrei forced him on his knees and ordered him to suck. Afterwards he was bathed in a sea of "I love yous" and "I was just kidding." "it's a game – our game, isn't it?"

It was bittersweet – some days were heaven, Viktor was spoiled and kissed from head to toe and that was when all the will to leave was crumbling. When Yakov spotted bruises on his hand he excused himself by saying he's been clumsy, which was the stupidest idea. Viktor Nikiforov was not some klutz, he was one of the most graceful people to walk on Earth and everyone who said otherwise was a fool.

Christophe seemed to dislike this guy a lot for no particular reason, that left the Russian with a sour taste in his mouth. He wondered why. Sure, Andrei was not perfect but neither was he and so far, he was the only one to accept Viktor's "clinginess" as the others named it. If the skater felt lonely in the middle of the night, he was welcomed to take a cab to Andrei's place because the man's arms were always opened for him. It went on for a year, some months better than the others.

"You're the only person I ever admitted to have loved."

"You're beautiful."

"You're talented."

"You're special to me."

"I couldn't imagine my life without you."

"If you love me, you have to do what I say."

Sweets words were spinning inside of Viktor's head while he was looking at himself in the mirror, wondering what kind of lie could cover the violet patch around his swollen eye. It's been a jealousy crisis - the barista complimented him quite a lot and Andrei believed polite answers and smiles meant his boyfriend couldn't wait to jump in the other's pants. Of course he didn't say anything while they were in public because he was not stupid but once they got to his place, he hit and it was harder than ever. The yells were deafening and what followed, made Viktor want to vomit because the sheets were filled with blood and his body was almost numb. He wanted to scream "no" but he had no right to talk so he silently took everything he was given, until he blacked out.

When he woke up, Andrei was sleeping on his side of bed, facing away like always. The silver-haired boy's heartbeat went crazy as soon as he slowly removed himself from the bed, trying to keep himself from looking at what he considered the crime scene. His knees almost gave out on the way to the bathroom and he gasped when he saw the way his face looked like. He washed his face carefully and wetted a towel so he could clean his body before going back to the bedroom and dressing his clothes. They were ruined and all he wanted was to get out of them, even if they were the most expensive they owned. He grabbed his phone and saw it was 5 AM, found some texts and missed calls from Yakov – the man was probably already up and drinking his coffee. Viktor never felt more relieved at the thought.

The taxi driver wasn't talkative, which was a blessing and as soon as he reached the front door, he felt tears sliding down his frozen cheeks. He entered the hall, discharging his shoes and hanging his coat and heard calculated steps coming to him.

"Vitya?" No answer. "Where in the world –" Yakov spent one good hour preparing a traditional scolding speech but his words failed to come out at the sight. Viktor's face was a mess and it surely wasn't because of the tears and snot. "What the hell happened to you, kid?" His voice was trembling and rage began rising its ugly head when shaking arms wrapped around him. He has never seen Viktor crying like this, not even when his mother dropped him off, abandoning him and never looking back, not when he thought he broke his leg a few years ago, so he patted his head, letting him calm down.

"He - he –"

"I'll rip his head off." As cold-hearted as he wanted to seem, Yakov would have killed for Viktor. No more words were spoken, instead he let the boy take a bath and rest, knowing it wasn't the right time to ask questions. He suspected long ago it was that Andrei's fault but he tried not to think about it because he trusted Viktor not to be stupid enough to stay if he was treated badly. He forgot how emotionally unstable he was.

When the pale-haired boy came out of his room it was long past 11 but Yakov indulged it, knowing there was no use in playing "the bad cop". He was dressed in comfortable pyjamas and he didn't dare to look the coach in the eye as he sat down at the table and grabbed his already-prepared cup of coffee. It had a lot of milk in it and he wondered if Yakov was trying to make him feel slightly better.

"Did that boy do that to you?"

"Yes." Guilt didn't have a nice flavour.

"Are you planning on seeing him again?" Silence followed so Yakov tensed, leaning closer to the table. "I'm not going to kick you out of this house, Viktor, but I won't coach you anymore." Blues widened in shock – this was an ultimatum. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, I'm doing this because you force me to. I never told you this before but I want you to find someone who can properly value you. You're Viktor Nikiforov, rising star of the skating word, don't let a son of a сука question your worth."

Tears sprung once again so the Russian wiped them furiously, hating the position he was put in.

"We should call the doctor."

After he had his whole body checked and bought the recommended painkillers he grabbed his phone and called Chris. As soon as the other answered he began vomiting the words he's been holding inside, forgetting about pleasantries, ignoring the fact that his friend was probably in the middle of training and he was holding him back. He knew he was acting selfish but he had no person whom he trusted enough to pour his soul out to. Christophe barely gasped while listening and Viktor could imagine his anguished expression, he was probably feeling guilty for not noticing earlier but it was not his fault, never his fault.

"I'm going to murder him." He never heard such a sombre voice coming out of the blond's mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, just... just try to stay away from him, Viktor. You deserve so much better than that." Viktor could read in between the lines so when Christophe told him he should visit he accepted right away, Yakov deciding it was the best for him to go away for a while.

At the airport, the Swiss's jaw dropped when he saw the bruises but he hugged his friend just as tight as he did before, trying to act normally even if his heart was breaking. They were staying at the Giacometti household and they tried to ignore the annoyed faces of Chris's parents; why would they son invite his enemy over for the weekend? The kid was also strange with that long hair and that strange sense of fashion that was making him look feminine, they didn't trust him.

"I don't think they like me." Viktor whispered when they entered the guestroom.

"I don't think I care." They both chuckled at that but the older didn't continue on the topic because he knew his friend wasn't fond of talking family business. He was supposed to take a shower and settle in and when his host turned to leave he grabbed his hand.

"I would feel more comfortable if I'd stay with you." Chris smiled gently and only then did the Russian realise how much he changed – he was tall, almost taller than him, and his face matured, his jawline asking to be kissed. He has bloomed into a beautiful youth.

"Okay." Their fingers intertwined as they moved to the bedroom, Viktor's eyes studying the many posters and pictures that were stuck on the walls. There were a ton of books too and as Christophe prepared the queen sized bed he ran his fingers over them, frowning as he was trying to read the titles which were in French and English. "You can use the bathroom." He hurried to jump in the shower and realised he forgot his things so he had to use what he could find. The body wash was based on honey so when he lied back in bed and Chris wrapped his arms around him he was thinking about home-made sweets. The blond buried his face in his neck and grinned. "You smell good, baby bee."

Viktor liked that pet name so he ran his fingers through the other's curls. Hands began to wander and soon Christophe was pushing him on his back, taking the lead and making him moan in pleasure. It was very different from the first time, the Swiss felt more like a man and it probably because of the many guys he "dated" the past year. This was exactly what the gold medallist needed, it was perfectly dosed – sweet but firm, moans melting against the other's lips.

"I love you." Icy blues hesitated when the words have been spoken.

"Don't say that. He –" He used to tell me that too and look at me.

"It's not the same." Chris whispered, leaning so their foreheads would touch. "Let me love you, baby bee." A gulp.

"Okay."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading! x_


	3. three

"You look like shit." That was the first words he heard once he woke up. "I fucking hate you – you asshole!" Chris couldn't help but break into a smile, even if Viktor was shaking because of the sobs that were wrecking his body. He looked terrible too, his long hair messy, clothes crumpled from sleeping a few good hours in a terrible hospital chair, his body tensed.

"Hi, baby bee." At his 20 years old, Christophe Giacometti didn't consider himself a wise man. He saw no difference between youth and teenage years so he kept doing the things he wanted, the only difference being the fact that now he was living alone and his possibilities were endless. Ever since his parents bought him the apartment he was currently living in, Josef aged 10 years for his pupil was jumping from one scandal to the other. He couldn't say anything because Chris was still training just as hard as before, the skating still holy for him. But this was too much, even for Chris. This was not some accusation that he was saw at a strip club or that he was dating an underage boy – heavy drugs were involved.

"How long?"

"A few months." He coughed and got up, looking disgusted at the needle that was stuck in his arm. There were machines beeping around him. "Where is Josef?"

"He's getting coffee, he's been here all night." Just like me. "You could have fucking died, Christophe." He didn't answer, looking around the room, the immaculate white disturbing his vision. He could vaguely remember vomiting a lot, bitter taste, tubes going inside of him; those were probably the reason why his throat felt so sore. He never imagined things would go this far but at a point the pills were not enough to make him happy so naturally, powders followed. He could remember being in his favourite club, drinking a lot, going home with a handsome guy, taking something at home too. "What if your boy toy wouldn't have called for an ambulance?"

"Can you shut up for a minute?" Viktor was looking like he's just been slapped so he immediately regretted his insensitive words.

"I'm sorry for giving a shit. Maybe I should go home."

"No, I'm sorry." Tension spread around the room. "I'm sorry."

Josef worked hard so the story wouldn't be made public and in a few days he was released from the hospital, his coach telling him he wasn't allowed to participate in the competitions he was used to. That was the greatest punishment he could have got because he was going to waste a year when he had so few but he knew the older man was right. He needed time to clear his mind and think about his future. Viktor flew back to Russia soon enough but the care he showed made the Swiss swoon.

It was early July when Viktor was hospitalised due to exhaustion. Yakov threatened he was going to break one of his legs if he was going to step on ice for two weeks so they decided to go somewhere to relax. They easily decided on Italy because they could go visit and they could also go to the beach and that was exactly what they wanted. They met in Rome, Chris waiting for Viktor in the airport until he landed and they took a cab to the hotel where they were going to stay for 3 days.

"Romantic, huh?" The view was wonderful from the big balcony and soon they were drinking wine, talking and listening to the city buzz.

"I needed this."

"Won't it affect your skating?" Viktor furrowed his brows, not wanting to think about that. "It won't." Chris decided and poured his friend another glass of wine.

"How are you feeling?" The Swiss spent two months in a rehab and he could say he was feeling fresh.

"Alright, I've had a lot of time to think."

"About?"

"My life. My purpose, though that sounds so cheesy." They both chuckled and the blond downed his glass, grabbing the second bottle that was resting in a bucket of ice. "I think I want more than clubbing and fucking, you know?"

"I think I want more for you too. You're my greatest opponent, my life would be so boring without you." Chris rolled his eyes but his face split in two because of a huge grin. "I have a gift for you, by the way." The slender man hurried inside, coming only minutes later with a little nicely wrapped present. He immediately ripped the paper and found a book – "Romeo and Juliet" so he turned towards the other, raising a brow.

"Thank you but it happened that I read it already."

"Isn't Verona our next stop?" Chris licked his lower lip.

"How romantic of you." He checked to see if there was something written on the first page and decided he was going to read those words later. He let the book rest on his lap and grabbed the man's hand, pulling him closer for a long and chaste kiss. "Thank you."

Hands cupped his face and soon they were lost in each other, not caring how loud they got because they were free. Viktor was sleeping, wrapped around him like ivy when he reached for the book, fingers flipping the first few pages.

 _"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs"_

He wondered if he should read more into the quote but didn't have the chance to overthink because an arm wrapped around him, forcing him back into a tight embrace.

* * *

Holding hands was not something either of them did on a daily basis but there was no complaint about it. Chris kept reminding himself that it was because they didn't want to get lost but he knew that was a cowardly excuse and that they simply did that because they felt like it. Kisses didn't miss from their routine, they would press their lips together instead of saying thank you, because they wanted to taste each other's ice cream flavour, because they saw people staring at them. Someone even told them they're a sweet couple while they were looking at Botticelli's "Primavera".

Florence has been their favourite, they spent countless days between paintings and old buildings and Christophe adored the dusty air everything had. They rented a car and headed to east, where beautiful beaches were waiting for them. Rimini has been the best recommendation when it came to seaside and they booked a hotel room near the beach, the open door of the balcony allowing them to hear the sound of waves crushing on the shore.

"Let's go skinny dipping." Chris suggested and Viktor grinned widely.

It was past midnight and there were only some couples walking on the sand when they hid behind a sailing boat and undressed completely. The Russian climbed on the younger's back until they swam deeper into the sea and then slid down, still clinging on the other's side.

"The water is warmer than I expected." Viktor whispered.

"That's because you live in a fridge." They both chuckled and then remained silent, staring at the reflection of the moon. "Vitya?" No answer so he tucked a strand of hair behind a pointy ear. "Why are you hard, baby bee?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No."

"It might have something to do with you." Christophe chuckled and soon his hands were everywhere, pulling the other closer. They were filled with desire and after they finished they began to swim around, splashing each other and teasing. As they were dressing, the Swiss stopped to look at the man beside him – Viktor was beautiful, almost looking like a porcelain doll.

They stopped at the hotel's bar and had some cocktails before going back upstairs and to sleep.

* * *

Chris's head was resting comfortably on Viktor's firm abdomen as he was reading "Romeo and Juliet", the older flipping the pages of some fashion magazine. A sigh. The blond ignored it. A longer sigh.

"What's the matter?"

"It's too hot, help me with the sun screen." Big hands were spreading whiteness on his back when a tall silhouette blocked the sun that was meant to fall on their bodies. They simultaneously turned around and saw a beautiful youth, blond hair reaching his shoulders, golden skin.

"Can I?" They could read the sex behind that thick accent so they grinned at each other before silently accepting the offer. It was the first time someone seemed interested in both of them simultaneously but they didn't mind. His name was Nico and he was obviously looking for an interesting affair.

They had drinks in a indie bar he suggested and Christophe had to stop him when he tried to get too close to Viktor because closeness irritated him, as selfish as that sounded. They went to a cheap motel and it must have been one of the most passionate nights of their lives because they were absolutely spent afterwards. They fell asleep there but left in the morning, no contact information exchanged.

"Let's stop for ice-cream." The Russian suggested and they did, both sore and needing a break. He looked cute as he was struggling to stop the sticky substance from dripping all over the cone so Chris smiled lovingly.

"Vitya?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't we give it a try?" Viktor stopped, fully aware of what the other was implying. A part of him was telling him nothing could go wrong because there was no other person he was as compatible with but there was another part who reminded him how bad this could end. He couldn't imagine not having Chris in his life. He didn't want that.

"And if it doesn't work?"

"We're already doing everything friends shouldn't do. It would go back to normal."

"Okay."

There was a strange comfort in knowing you had someone as your lover. It was like everything had a bright new meaning and they were far from trying to impress each other.

They went clubbing that night and they were surprised by the level of freedom Italians displayed when it came to night life. They were loud and shameless, grinding against each other and flirting without a worry in the world, drinking until they fell off their chairs. It was comforting, especially for the Russian who always needed to watch himself when going out. Clouds of smoke made them choke but they sat at the bar, asking for two vodkas on rocks. Viktor was reluctant when it came to touches in the public eyes so Chris held his hands for himself, resuming to subtly brushing the other's thigh when they were laughing or brushing hair from his eyes.

"Is this seat taken?" It was a woman – a good looking and elegantly dressed woman who was eyeing them expectantly while running her fingers through blonde bangs.

"It's all yours." The Swiss replied and she sat right next to Viktor, getting her port-cigarette out while searching for the barman with her brown eyes. She ordered whiskey and as soon as the drink came she turned towards them, a cheeky smile on her red lips.

"You're not Italian." Her English was broke but they decided to play along and said the countries they were coming from, hoping she had no idea what figure skating was because otherwise they would have been screwed. At one point of the conversation she moved all her attention towards Viktor who was distantly answering her questions, disliking the entire situation. She was a flirt and he was uncomfortable because he has never been good at turning down people. When he heard Chris's deep voice he exhaled loudly.

"Let's dance, baby bee."

And they did, more intimately than ever and not necessarily because they were trying to underline something but because they could. The blond man's teeth sunk in the skin of his boyfriend's neck and the latter moaned loudly, moving his ass back so it could meet hardness. For the first time in his entire life, Viktor made out with a man while in the centre of attention and the truth was that he loved it. It felt sinful and liberating and his skin was tingling with need for more.

The woman's eyes widened at the picture and she suddenly understood why that beautiful man didn't reply to her flirts – his heart was too busy for her to intrude. They were a good looking couple, she decided.

The party went on until dawn so they headed to the beach to see the sun rising, both cold because of the breeze.

"Have you ever tried with a woman?"

"Never." Viktor confessed, amused by the question. "Have you?"

"Pfff no." They burst into laughter, talking about how they probably wouldn't be able to get it up for a female and how their parents wished they would. They walked back to the hotel and immediately melted into each other.

There was a great difference between their bodies – while Christophe was well built, Viktor looked almost feminine; it was probably because they were training differently. While the Russian did a lot of ballet, the blond preferred going to the gym mostly because he didn't consider himself graceful enough to practice such a dance and gave up a long while before.

Big hands were searching for a slender waist and guided the silver haired man's body up and down, closing his eyes because of the intense pleasure. Viktor was moving restlessly, chasing his own orgasm and soon they were moaning loudly, mouths meeting greedily. The older man was very loud but that turned on the Swiss even more so he drank in every sob, pulling the other closer so their sweaty chests met.

"Fuck." Fingers tangled into pale strands and tugged, earning a whimper. "You feel so fucking good."

Viktor sighed instead of answering and closed his eyes, enjoying the caresses.

"We need a bath."

"With a bath bomb."

"With glitter 'cause I'm feeling extra gay." Christophe chuckled at the remark and added.

"Extra gay means candles too."

Silence fell over them like a blanket and they didn't dare to say anything else, instead listening to loud heartbeats and hitched breathings.

"Chris?"

"Yes, baby bee?"

"You're the only person in this whole world who doesn't make me feel dirty." The blond smiled sadly, unsure of what he could say to make things better for the Russian. "I love you." It wasn't the first time those words were spoken and the Swiss believed them to one point. He truly loved Viktor but he knew their feelings weren't the same and they were probably never going to be.

"I know you do... I know."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading! Take care of yourself! x_


	4. four

"Do you remember that summer? The summer we travelled to Italy?" Chris's tone was playful and he sipped from his glass of wine, watching Viktor's legs as they were seated comfortably on his lap.

"We were crazy." The Russian nodded and Yuuri quirked a brow, curious about what this was about. "We actually believed we could work as a couple." There was a shocked gasp coming out of the brunet's mouth as his lover began to explain in detail how they were feeling back then.

It has been a mirage – a dream that felt so far away right now. It was almost an insult to their sentiments but in the end, their romantic feelings faded after one summer of passion. It was never a matter of not being made for each other, on the contrary: they were so alike they couldn't manage to function properly because they couldn't temper each other. After a few loud fights, crying and throwing things around, Chris decided they should simply give up on the idea and go back to the beginning. As much as he loved Viktor, he knew there was no way he could afford to lose him because there was no one as close to his heart as the Russian.

"But you told me –" The blond turned to look at Dorian who looked as if he's just been slapped. "You told me you've never been more than friends with benefits." He avoided talking about this particular matter because he knew how jealous his boyfriend could get when it came to Vitya. Of course he would never have admitted what he was feeling because he knew it was irrational and Christophe and Viktor didn't care for each other like that but the Swiss didn't want to let those insecurities grow.

"I wouldn't consider 2 months of calling each other boyfriends being a relationship, mon coeur." He winked at the tall man who was still struggling to finish his first glass of wine.

"We had a dysfunctional affair."

"I kind of figured that out when one hotel kicked us out because of the yelling. We trashed the hotel room in anger." Yuuri's jaw dropped and Chris rubbed his chin while keeping a grin on his face. "We were lonely."

Loneliness – that was one thing "love" should never spring from. They could remember the pain that followed the break-up, the disappointment and the countless thoughts that kept creeping inside their minds as soon as night fell. If your best friend couldn't love you then who could? They continued to have sex for a while, until Christophe met Dorian who was going to be his new manager and found out what real love felt like. It hasn't been planned but the attraction was too strong and they ended up together; the Swiss couldn't recall happier times.

* * *

When the invitation to Viktor and Yuuri's wedding was mailed to their apartment it hasn't been a surprise. Christophe helped a lot with the planning because he knew his best friend would have been lost in a sea of anxiety if there wasn't for him. Even if he played "prince charming" on a daily basis, Viktor admitted on various occasions how nervous he was to have a wedding. The nervousness never overwhelmed the happiness he knew that event was going to bring – Yuuri was his soulmate, his sun, and he was going to do everything properly and assure they had a wonderful start. A fancy one too.

That wedding looked like it was cut out from a fairytale and Christophe had a speech prepared as the groom's best man and friend. Even if he made the audience laugh a lot, the ending brought tears even to his eyes so once he got off the stage he fled into Dorian's arms which were opened for him alone.

He's been surprised by his own feelings – he would have never thought he was going to be bitter because there was nothing to sulk about, both of them found the men they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. But he was suddenly fifteen again, Viktor skating on his heart, making him blush only by being. It was not easy to lose a part of yourself but he had to peacefully let it go. As soon as Dorian engaged himself in a conversation with someone he took advantage of the situation and got to an isolated corner where he could hear his thoughts. There was a group of people smoking so he asked for a cigarette and lit it, puffing the smoke as he looked up at the Japanese moon. It was rarely that he smoke, he never liked the taste but he had to occupy his mind with something and this was the easiest thing to do.

He couldn't believe more than a decade has passed since they first met, he couldn't believe what a single rose lead to. The cold wind was getting to him as if it was trying to brush those unwanted feelings away so he didn't hear the feathery steps until arms wrapped around his middle.

"Here you are! I thought I lost my best man." Viktor was drunk and that could only make Chris chuckle and shake his head. "Dorian is looking for you."

"I needed a minute."

The Russian hummed, not wanting to insist on the matter and began to move his body on the beat with the slow song that was vibrating through the air, forcing his friend to do the same.

"I'm very happy for you, baby bee."

"I know you are. I'm happy you're here." They smiled at each other and something pulled at Christophe's heart in the strangest way.

No – he needed to stop being so sentimental. The alcohol was probably getting to his head; he threw the cigarette butt away before sneaking his arm around Viktor's waist and guiding him inside the building. Yuuri, who was already drunk too welcomed his brand new husband with a loud and wet kiss that made Chris laugh and head towards his table. Dorian was on his feet, obviously searching for something (or someone) and his ashy greens widened when he spotted his boyfriend approaching him.

"Where were you?"

"Outside, I needed a moment." Their lips met chastely and the British man wrinkled his nose in distaste at the bitter taste of the other's mouth. Usually, Dorian would have complained about it – he hated when Chris smoked – but that wasn't the case right then, instead he smiled sweetly at him. Their locked hands made him feel like there was no loneliness left in the world so he smiled and leaned for a longer kiss.

* * *

"I think there are different kinds of love." Viktor said while looking at the empty bottles. He cleared his throat and light blues found emerald greens. "In my strange way, I did love you."

Christophe smiled widely.

"We had a lot of fun, baby bee. We grew up together."

"There's not a thing I would change, no matter how many painful things I went through. You know why?"

"Hm?"

"Because it all lead to this."

They soon wished each other good night and Christophe headed to the little bedroom he shared with Dorian, trying to walk as silently as possible. He muttered a "merde" under his breath when the door squeaked and closed it gently, relieved that there was light flooding the room. One lamp was turned on and he took a second to take in the view – Dorian's hair was splayed all over the white pillow, his expression serene. It was rare that he could see the man like this – his guard down, his mind at ease, so he smiled and moved closer, discarding his pants and heading to the shower. He kept it short and soon he was in between the sheets, curling towards warmth and listening to even breathing. His head rested on a broad shoulder and he inhaled deeply the familiar smell of soap and lime.

He couldn't help but compare Viktor and Dorian. What he had with the Russian has been a complete madness and it could have been because of the young age but there were just the two of them against the world. The amount of happiness was almost equal with the amount of distress and sadness; his current relationship was so different. Sure, they had their bad moments because they were so different and the age gap was showing but he couldn't imagine himself without Dorian. The man brought him equilibrium, he was tempering his life and teaching him there was so much more than partying and drinking. Dorian was his home.

Moonlight was caressing his face and his ears were ringing with memories of laughter. Ten years were passing before his eyes – he could remember it all. Holding hands with Viktor so naturally, kissing in the middle of dark streets, hitting on each other so they could escape other insistent males. He could remember visiting so many places, sneaking inside hotel rooms, pulling silver strands, kissing soft lips, pale skin. He thought he'd faint the first time he really faced Yakov and he asked what kind of relationship they had – he's been so scared until Viktor hugged the old man and made him soften. He remembered the first time he saw Viktor crying, all the secrets they shared during long and dizzy nights, all the anxieties regarding skating, all the fear. He wasn't saddened by the visions, instead he felt a tender melancholy. He was feeling old but he had to admit he aged satisfyingly.

He scooted closer to his sleeping lover and felt an arm wrapping around his torso, trapping him into a wary embrace. Green eyes shut close and Christophe tried to suppress a loud yawn.

"Chris?" Dorian's voice was groggy but the skater immediately reacted and hummed in approval.

"Who else?"

"I thought you were going to sleep with Viktor in the living room." Long fingers began to play with blond curls and the younger nuzzled the man's neck.

"You know I can't sleep without you." It was a habit he formed over the years and as troubling as it sometimes was, the thought that they became so close was pleasing. "Dorian?"

"Hm?"

"You know I love you, right?" The man moved so their eyes could meet but remained silent. The British man could be easily embarrassed by these simple words but now he couldn't allow himself to be because he felt something different in the air. "I love you."

Christophe was taken by surprise when the other pressed his lips against his, melting their bodies together. It was not a kiss that promised more, it was reassuring and loving and he smiled once they parted. The blond sighed and buried his face in the crook of Dorian's neck.

"I love you."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this short story ~ Have a lovely day! x_


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